You Shall Be My Knife
by elianthos
Summary: For Chiba Mamoru and Tsukino Usagi, there is no fine line between confused hatred and unquestioning, unrelenting, torturous love. Cowritten with Nimbirosa. Note: the knife is a figurative one!


**You Shall Be My Knife.**

by elianthos and Nimbirosa aka Arashinobara

l

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He _feels_ her coming: tastes her laughter before she smiles; smells the gold-shine before she appears; listens, with his head cocked to the side, for the ripples her presence transmits to him through everything she does...

Through everything she _is._

So beautiful

_It hurts_

So beautiful

_Shadowed soul shrinking, recoiling so that _

he would never allow her to see the ache his life was. He would not let her look upon him with pity; would not allow her love to be tainted by sorrow.

_Bleed as you make me to_

He _wouldn't_.

He sees her love, would not want it tainted... but tests her, now and again, though

_he despises himself for it and his cold cruelty trapped within_

his soul is as driest desert and lonely peaks. When he touches her, seeds of light fight for her warmth, craving _just a chance_ to blossom –

_And sometimes, oh so _seldom_, he would allow himself to smile... to redeem all wrongs to her, to protect and to cherish her, to be her comfort and security..._

and something ancient and gentle and forgotten and so intimately _he _unfurls hesitantly, reaching...

But always he draws back before he can touch her.

For too long he has tended the thorns – Solitude had nourished them, bitterness was in the repulsing points – now they defend him, even from a gentle touch of _Hers_.

He would heal her

_of course, how could I not?_

But his self-exile had been bitter; the thorns and scars even more so. They would tear her apart, these unwanted weapons, and she would be turned away before he could heal her – with words, a kiss, a begging apology –

_I'd give my blood for you. Everything I have. Everything I am._

So he shudders internally, the last remnants of his self-control a white-knuckled grip wrapped about his coffee mug. He watches her, like always, and sometimes his gaze is so shameless he can see Motoki blush...

But he always closes his eyes, preferring to savour her presence through _taste-hear, smell-sight, feel-touch_ as she seats herself without aplomb beside him

_Like always_.

Her voice

_like an echo in his bones, like waves upon the mere stone of sanity's foundations,_

torments him greater than when she is spitting insults.

He raises the steaming cup to inhale deeply, trusting in the strong-scented brew to ward her scent from his detection – but how could he hide from one whose appearance he can scent in the air and taste in her voice?

She pervades him. His body, his memories, his dreams; _all_ his secret hopes and desires. His most secret realm, she has invaded without her own knowledge... though sometimes he sees her watching him as he watches her, and there is the lingering spirit of a smile upon her curved mouth. He cannot tell whether her amusement is born of amusement or mockery, and he does not want to know

_No he does not no he does not_

And when he teases her

_just _sometimes

she looks to hold back a smile.

Sometimes he would feel she has driven him so mad he could barely resist the impulse to shake her and demand of her _Who are you who are you who overwhelms me so tell me now!_

Everything about her torments him.

He has learned to face, and defeat, pain, abandon, despair, loneliness, violence, death

_and demonic enemies from another dimension_

to anticipate a blow and counter it. Never had he ever entertained the thought that he could be defeated by lo –

That someone so caring and sweet and so harmless-looking could wound him

_And make him feel alive even as life of old slipped away._

She's his saviour, sitting scarce a few inches and worlds away.

He fears and yearns for this pain to reach for him deeper and deeper.

_This o-so-sweet sorrow..._

Without realizing - and not even daring to hope - he's doing the same to her... and she hates and yearns for him just as he does her.

For Chiba Mamoru and Tsukino Usagi, there is no fine line between confused hatred and unquestioning, unrelenting, torturous love.

----------------

ANs: Hi! Elianthos speaking.

This was originally a drabble for the UsakoMamoru community on LJ. But Nimbirosa, my beta, made such a stellar work with this piece of writing that I decided post it as a stand alone. If you're curious to see the original fic before Nimbi-chan worked her magic on it, be my guest and check chapter 5 of my drabble series 'Caramel Apple' (the theme/title is 'Weapon/Thorns').

Oh, about the title for _this_, it's (not :) ) entirely my fault. It's both the title of a wonderful book by Jewish writer David Grossman and a reference from one of Franz Kafka's letters to his beloved, Milena.

There is a paragraph where Kafka wrote about her along these lines: you're the knife I look into my self with (actually, the Italian translation I'm familiar with sounds more like '_dig/search _into my self with'. But you get the picture. )

I'd really suggest you to read David Grossman's book (just mind the rating: according to this site , I'd rate it above M). It's intense, it's about love, obsession and salvation. Slightly bordering on insanity in some places, but totally worth reading.

Finally, I'd fondly suggest you to check out Nimbirosa's fanfics, and her co-written stories under the penname ArashinobaraJikkankakyoku as well.

Meanwhile, thank you for reading!


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